


Delicate

by DSB



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: ASL, American Sign Language, BAMF Stiles, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Isaac is Deaf - Freeform, M/M, Magic Stiles Stilinski, Minor Stanny - Freeform, Scott is a Bad Friend, Signing, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Top Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-01-24 05:56:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18565309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DSB/pseuds/DSB
Summary: Stiles is a Spark and in trying to save everybody's favorite Sour Wolf accidentally summoned a necromancer. The two idiots are madly in love with each other but neither of them knows it yet.There's a Witch Council, Deaton's as *NOT* helpful as ever, and it's told in a nonlinear, alternating first person POV. OH! And Issac is Deaf, has been since birth, that's why his father was such a jackass.





	1. Ignition

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fanfic. I've written original works but never something like this before. It will partly follow canon and partly not. I'm also an American Sign Language student in a college program working on becoming an interpreter, hence the ASL and Deaf Culture/terms. 
> 
> Let me know what y'all think and share it as wide as possible, yeah? Will try to update as I finish writing chapters but with classes, two jobs, and already being behind I make no promises!

**Chapter One**   
**Ignition**

Stiles

Now

 

The wooden chair they’ve tied me to makes my butt ache. And not in the way that playing with myself does. Hell, it’s not even from the way I want it to, let alone inflicted on me by who I want to make it ache.

The spotlight I sit in somehow glares worse than all the others I’ve had thrown around me in the past. Or maybe they’ve just turned up the juice on this one. The scent of buzzing electricity, overly hot and wildly alive, leaves a coppery taste on my tongue. It could just be stress. Maybe I bit my tongue or something. People do that in these types of situations. But then again, everybody in this room has magic. Their powers could make me taste blood without their even trying.

And that’s why I’m here.

Everything went to hell in a hand-basket with a bow on top saying, “Congratulations! Here’s a boy!” It left me without a choice. Either come here and maybe die trying to save everything and everybody I love, or let some fucked up, vindictive, evil, and half-dead bitch destroy my life. And it’s not even Jennifer! Like I said, hell in a hand-basket.

This time it’s worse than usual though. And I’m breaking like ten billion promises to the Pack by doing this. Even considering talking with this Bitch Council as Lydia, Erica, Alison, and Cora named them breaks one of those rules… The ones we made on a Girls Night that they invited me to after I came out.

But with desperate times and great magical powers comes the great responsibility of solving a whole slew of supernatural problems.

Somebody outside the circle of light gives a bored sigh. Another clears their throat. The scooting of chairs tell me that whatever they have planned for me, it’s about to go down. Well, that as the fact that somebody steps into the light in pair jeans and tank top, both almost violently black and contrasting with their skin tone. Their eyes glow with a violet light for a moment as they scan the room, then stop with a smile. A moment later, their right hand draws toward them from the outer circle, two fingers splayed in a V, eyebrows raised in question.

Can you see me?

“Yes.” That voice is heavy with a Deaf accent, the word just a little too loud, sounding like it’s spoken with a marble in their mouth.

Maybe I can get Isaac on board with this whole deal if he interacts with a Deaf witch.

I swallow hard and give my best shit-eating smile, trying not to tap a foot in nervousness. “So, are we going to actually talk or is this one of those Star Wars mind trick things where one of you will reach out across the Force and chat with me like that?”

“We’re indeed starting, Mr. Stilinski. Stiles, you prefer to be called over Mi, May, Me? I cannot say that name. No wonder you prefer Stiles over it.” A woman huffs a laugh, then coughs, trying to cut it off—I like her for it already. She speaks with a heavy Korean accent, but it isn’t hard to follow.

I chuckle and nod. “My mom gave it to me. It’s pronounced Me-aye-tch-slav. It was my grandpa’s name.”

The interpreter frowns a moment, signing things I haven’t seen before, which is surprising given Mom’s job before she died and my friendship with Isaac. Then it hits me—they’re signing how to pronounce my first name. It’s not American Sign Language, or Signed Exact English, but something between the two.

Okay, that’s pretty fucking awesome!

Somebody gives a heavy sigh and the rustling of a thick cloak reveals that unlike everybody else, excepting the interpreter, they’re standing. And they’re behind me. “Sun-lee are we actually going to get on with this or do you want me to go put a kettle of tea on so you and the boy can chat about his name?”

There’s a shuffling of papers and I can almost see the lady sit up straighter. “Of course, we going to get down to business, Alastair. It was a comfort mechanism. Anyway, Stiles, how did you get involved in all of this?”

I inhale deep. “Are you sure you really want to ask that question?”

The Deaf guy laughs. Judging from the rustle of fabric and how their voice is somewhat closer to me in this circle, they’re leaning forward. Their voice also reveals that unlike Alistair and Sun-Lee, they’re my age, just a teen still. I can kind of make out the movements of their hands, but not enough to actually see their signs. The interpreter turns slightly toward me, and voices for him. “Sure. Entertain us a bit.”

Sun-lee groans. “You shouldn’t have done that, Tobias.”

I take a deep breath before launching into things. “Well, it all started when Scotty—my best friend, brother really—and I went searching for half the body of a dead girl in the woods. At night. In the rain. Hey, I didn’t say it was the best idea I ever had. And he just had to make it worse with his dumbass questions. Paranoid ones, actually. The type only somebody who bitches about nothing ever happening in town asks when something actually does. Happen I mean. Well, something out of the ordinary.

“Anyway, going back out to search for said dead girl again because Scott swore that he saw the upper half of her only proved that in the history of stupid ideas, we had acted on the two highest ranking ones. But it was also kind of the best damn thing that ever happened to us. He became a werewolf, I met Derek Hale, and then discovered I’m magical—“

“I’m sorry we meant the situation you’re in now.” Alistair steps into the light just enough that I can make out that he has severely high cheekbones, sunken eyes, and hair that’s so white he looks ancient. And who knows, maybe he is. “We don’t need to know how you met Derek or the events that transpired between then and when this cataclysm started.”

“I was getting to that, Grumpy Witch.” I roll my eyes when he steps back and gasps like I’ve slapped him across the face.

Tobias’ laugh is just barely contained. “Out of curiosity, which half of the body were you looking for the night your ‘Scotty’ was bitten by, Peter Hale, was it?”

“You know, back then I didn’t even think about that. And that’s something Scotty asked too, by the way. Which half we were looking for. He also asked what we would do if the killer attacked us. Turns out, we helped to kill him. And yeah, it was totally Peter Hale. Asshole didn’t stay dead, unfortunately.”

“Oh, for the love of the stars, get to it! Don’t you have a Pack to save?” Sun-lee’s lashing hits me strong.

Right. They’re sort of safe at the moment, but I’ve got to remember why I’m here. And those sleeping potions and the mountain ash barrier will only work for so long. I need to see what it’ll take to get help defeating this necromancer because I’ll do anything for Derek. For my Pack.

I clear my throat and take another deep breath, centering myself.  
“They’re in danger because I cast an incantation wrong. Derek got injured, like on the verge of death injured because some dipshits figured out how to make a silver bullet encased in magic. And when it hits a werewolf it doesn’t melt or crunch down, it explodes, leaving not only shrapnel, but release the wolfsbane oil, mistletoe berry juice, and crushed mountain ash hidden in it to spread throughout their bodies and kill them.”

“Well, that’s new.” This comes from a different witch.

“That’s what I said! So, Derek, right, he got shot with one and all that was running through his veins—and I couldn’t let him die because he is part of the Pack. My whole unrequited love thing didn’t influence that in any way whatsoever. Nope. Absolutely not. Don’t listen to the girls if they get the chance to tell you otherwise. They’re liars.”

Tobias laughs at that. Sun-lee even chuckles. Alistair just groans in frustration. “Do you think you could get to the damned point?”

“Sure thing, Bitch Witch. Anyway, I cast that spell. To make it work, I thought I had to kiss him. But we kind of ended up summoning a necromancer and some monster that it can control all because we were supposed to actually have sex and I misread that while flash-seeking for an enchantment that could save him.”

Multiple witches gasp at that. “A necromancer?”

“This is exactly why we wanted to bind him. Sparks are unpredictable, their powers too wild!”

“Silence! We knew something would happen by allowing Stiles to practice magic outside our control and as such are as much to blame as he is for this occurrence. Stiles, what is flash-seeking, exactly?” Alistair stops in his circling around me to pose that question. “That may help us determine how to approach this problem magically.”

“It’s what I call it. Y’all probably call it scanning or something, but I’m basically using my magic to speed through the pages of my grimoire.”

“Um, we don’t have a term, actually. We just call it skimming like everybody else.” That’s Tobias’ interpreter again. “Regarding this spell, you do realize it has a simple solution, right? Did you ask him if he would, uh, sleep with you?”

That gives me pause. “I didn’t. But, nope, it’s still not simple. Because Derek wouldn’t fuck me—I’ve been inside his mind and know what he thinks of me. And he’s straight anyway. That makes it a moot point.”

A door opens slightly, and somebody slides inside—but the sliver of light from the door doesn’t reach me. Their voice does though… And it’s the one person I outright hate.

“Stiles, thank you for that nap. It was quite refreshing. And before you ask, I’m the first one to wake up from your little rouse. I can only assume the others are still in the throes of your magic. But you forgot that mountain ash barriers don’t work on me anymore, and for once I’m thankful because you have no idea how wrong you are.”

The brunet tucks his bangs out of his face and behind ear—he’s grown it out since meeting his daughter. For a guy that’s been killed twice now, he’s very much alive. His words come out halfway condescending, halfway know-it-all looking to get murdered. Again. It’s a Hale trait. “Sorry to interrupt, but I was eavesdropping outside. And Stiles, Derek not only wants to ravage your body, he outright loves you.”

“Yeah, not going to take your word for it, Wombie.”

The man shrugs, flips a switch, and the room comes into sudden brightness and focus.

Oh, of course, they went all dramatic when we could have just been talking like normal people.

“Well, Stiles, I’m the only one here you actually know. If not me, who can you trust?” He pauses with a smirk letting that truth sink in. “And even Scott can tell. Why do you think he’s been so protective of you? Didn’t you notice how vehemently he’s always objected to working with Derek?”

“Well, we’ve been best friends since we met. Scotty’s my brother... But Derek’s not straight?” I mull that over, trying not to let my heartbeat accelerate too much at the thought of Derek wanting me. Peter will no doubt pester me with slide remarks and what he considers jokes later on. “How do you even know that?”

Peter smiles. “Come on now, Stiles. The same way I know everything else—I pay attention to what everybody else doesn’t. Information is an excellent form of motivation, after all. But, I’m also one of the last family members he has, so he outright told me… Well, told us really. The family.”

“Forgive me, just who the fuck are you?” Tobias clicks his tongue, head titled in curiosity like a tiny bird. It hits me now that he’s actually really short, and gorgeous. And black, which I totally didn’t expect with his name, but it also fits him even more somehow. This time he’s the one voicing the question and it reminds me that just like Isaac, he must have been mainstreamed and gone through oralism.

The Wombie turns to the witch with a dramatic eye-roll but does raise his hands to sign. According to him, dying twice and gave him enough time to learn American Sign Language somehow. He’s also had a lot of time to practice and learn to make Isaac feel more included. He may be an asshole, but he isn’t an audist, and he’s surprisingly kind when it comes to Isaac.

“I’m Peter Hale. And I’m here to keep this little ‘Sorcerer Supreme’ from making the biggest mistake of his life. I’m here to represent the Hale Pack.”


	2. Scent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Derek met Stiles (and Scott). AKA Episode One stuff!
> 
>  
> 
> And what we DIDN’T see that’s my head cannon. What did stiles do AFTER he saw Derek and dropped Scott at home?
> 
> Aka Detective Stiles and Stalker Derek. Very Twilight-y era vibes on supernatural lurker and human doing research, but it fits given the knowledge show and those movies were going on at the same time. In the beginning.
> 
> This probably is a horrible note, so just shush and read and enjoy! Kudos and comments are always welcome. Please share it, too? Thanks. I hope y’all enjoy!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta’d, and hopefully somewhat entertaining? I twisted a few of the lines around and Derek is honestly really hard to write a POV for. 
> 
> I’m also doing revisions to my novel to send it back to the literary agents who requested, so that’s part of what caused this massive delay. Not that I think anybody’s really *waiting* on this or anything... I’ll be posting a LOT more of this soon. As I write it. There will be roughness because if I don’t force myself to just write it and get it out into the world I will not work on it. Thanks for the kudos and comments and I hope y’all enjoy!
> 
> Starting this week there’ll be at least one chapter posted a week. I’m *also* thinking of developing two works that run parallel to this one, but we’ll see. Please share with your friends and keep on coming! All interactions are appreciated. 😃🤟
> 
> This probably is a horrible note, so just shush and read and enjoy! Kudos and comments are always welcome. Please share it, too? Thanks!

**CHAPTER TWO**  
**Scent**

 

Derek

 

THEN

 

Pack!

My mind latches on to this one thing as the smell grows stronger. It’s not a random Omega, but an actual pack member. Heartbeat rumbling like thunder in my ears, I race toward the aroma.

When I smell blood, Laura’s blood mixing with the undeniable chocolatey smell of my family and Pack, I slow and begin walking. Two teens are heading toward where I found Laura’s torso last night. I’ve never seen them before and it’s obvious the dark-haired one is newly turned.

Damn kid probably doesn’t even know it yet.

The other guy’s scent brings up a faint memory of life before the fire, of a woman, but that just leaves a bitter ashen taste in my mouth, and a lump in my throat. I shake my head, focusing on the conversation and teens headed my way. The past can’t help me.

Maybe these teens can though. If either of them knows anything about the Alpha I need to learn about it. Even just know what they look like fully shifted would make my life easier.

“Stiles, there could be something seriously wrong with me.”

“I know—you’re a werewolf! Grrr.” I try not to roll my eyes when dark haired one, Scott, gives his friend this wounded puppy-eyes look. Stiles just laughs it off and something tells me he won’t hold back any punches or puns when he discovers the truth. “Okay, obviously I’m kidding. But if you see me in shop class melting all the silver I can find, it’s because Friday’s the full moon.”

And just why would you be so observant? What kind of guy keeps track of that unless they’re a supernatural creature?

They continue toward me, not even realizing I’m here. It’s not as if I’m purposefully hiding myself. The whole “stand still and look pissed off” trait comes to me easily nowadays. Has for years.

Laura used to tease that I’d inherited it from Mom…

“Maybe the killer moved the body.” There’s a shuffling of leaves, as if my sister’s corpse is just lying under a small layer of them. It’s Stiles who does that.

“Well, I hope he left my inhaler. Those things are like eighty bucks!”

My mouth falls open and I glance down at the hunk of plastic and metal I snatched up last night. The second Scott’s words fully process I loosen my grip on the canister. He may not need it anymore but that doesn’t mean he won’t have to answer for what happened to it.

These things cost eighty bucks? Who the hell prices medication?

Stiles turns, looking for Laura’s body, and catches sight of me. He slaps Scotts shoulder to grab his attention. The sharp musky scent of arousal rises from the brunet as he regards me, gaze sliding down my body then back up to my face. He turns around quickly, a hand rubbing across the top of his buzz-cut. The kid lets out a heavy breath—the kind reserved for seeing the hottest thing somebody ever has.

It’s something I’m used to by now.

When he turns back around, his cheeks are flushed and a blotchy red creeps down his pale neck. I fastidiously ignore the hard on forming in his jeans. His warming blood—even when accounting for the burned sugar taste of teenage horniness—only makes the strangely familiar scent from earlier even stronger.

Well, that’s an interesting development. Just what is that smell? And why does arousal makes it more potent… and downright fucking tasty?

“What’re you doing here? Huh? This is private property.” I fix them with a glare and consciously square my shoulders some more.

Stiles puts his hands in his pockets and shrugs. “Um, sorry man, we didn’t know.”

Scott squints at me, body giving off confused chemsignals, sniffing like he’s trying to place my scent. Whoever the Alpha is, they’re definitely a Hale if his wolf is reacting this way. “Yeah, we were just… looking for something, but forget it.”

I glare even harder then throw his inhaler at him. Unsurprisingly, the new wolf catches it. I walk away, listening the tail end of their conversation.

“Scott, that was Derek Hale!” Stiles’s voice is slightly breathy and yet again I catch a whiff of his arousal.

“I wonder what he’s doing back?”

They head back toward the west entrance of the preserve, conversation fading the further away from me they get. Curiosity needles at my brain, sinks itself like an itch I can’t quite reach and, against my better judgment, I sneak after the two. Following them through town is easy given that Beacon Hills has a good amount of treelined areas. New York may be easy to stalk a person in, to lose yourself, but here you can actually breathe fresh air while doing so.

They stop at Scott’s house first. I’m take a minute to wrap my head around the fact that somebody who pays attention to the price of medicine has such a big house. Two stories with a wraparound porch isn’t exactly cheap anywhere, but especially here in California.

Maybe his family is well off?

I don’t spare it more than a though because as soon as Scott’s inside his house, Stiles hits the gas. My wolf wants me to stay here and watch Scott. It makes sense to even, but then the wind carries another bitter of that naggingly familiar fragrance that clings to Stiles and my mind’s made up.

The teen wolf isn’t going anywhere. Even if he does I’ll hear him howl. His friend however is heading for the opposite side of town, and frankly, he knows too much for my comfort.

When he finally pulls into his driveway I wait for him to head inside. Standing at the end of his street isn’t exactly ideal, but it’s better than being seen by him or a neighbor. The unmistakeable tang of gunmetal lingers around his home, too and if it weren’t for the utter exhaustion and burned coffee scents from the police station, I’d think he belonged to the Argents.

Stiles hurries inside and up to his room. Within three minutes he’s typing away on his keyboard. “Okay, Derek, let’s find out more about you. And since when did the Hale family own the fucking preserve?”

This sets my heart racing and I rush to his house. If he can figure it out, if he comes across anything at all, then he’ll come back out to the preserve. He’s too nosy not to. This too-brilliant-for-his-own-good teenager, whose scent still brings up a memory of some figment from my past, is presenting me with a problem already.

I stay hidden in the shadows as night rolls in, make sure to listen to his heartbeat when he finds things. The fact that Stiles runs to his dad’s room and finds case-files about my family’s fire leaves me even more perturbed.

He only takes a break to order pizza. After he’s paid and taken his two boxes in, I intimidate the driver into giving me one from the five he still has to deliver. That way I don’t have to leave. But I pay for it. Hell, I give him two-hundred dollars—fifteen to cover the ridiculously expensive pizza and the rest to keep him quiet.

Contrary to what I project, I’m not a total asshole.

I slink back into shadows and onto the awning outside Stiles’ room. eat the pineapple and black olive pie. Weirdly enough, the brunet ordered the same type of pizza. The sweetness of the fruit and the saltiness of the vegetable mix amazingly well together.

“Okay, wait. I thought he was a few years ahead of us in school, but if what’ve this article is saying is true, then he’s only eighteen.” Stiles groans and runs a hand over his head. “None of this is making sense! Why are there so many contradictions? Fuck this, man. I need to get off if I’m gonna make this work.”

When I hear him unzip his pants, I leave the roof. That’s one thing I do _not_ want to see. It’s bad enough I’ll have to hear it. But this does give me something of a reprieve. Sitting too long makes my muscles tight just like any other person. I have to move around, walk up and down the street and stretch my muscles, but maintain a safe distance so I can hear when Stiles orgasms and cleans up. It’s not ideal, but I keep him within earshot.

He continues his search even after his father comes home at midnight. At two in the morning, just when I think he’s finally done for the night, Stiles pulls out an orange bottle with pills in it from his desk drawer.

“So, we know that the fire was set, how many people died in it, and that there were only two known survivors. Let’s see what Adderall can help me find. Who knows, I may crack the case on who set the fire!”

Oh, yeah. Stiles is absolutely going to be trouble for me.


End file.
